


Cherry Blossoms

by Copperdale (HDO)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Trigger Warning: Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:17:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDO/pseuds/Copperdale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The same semester I took an ancient poetry class<br/>That taught me the symbolism of cherry blossoms,<br/>We laughed under the blooming trees of DC<br/>And took pictures of each other,<br/>Still life portraits of so many fleeting things<br/>We were blissfully oblivious,<br/>Even in the soft flurries of blossoms <br/>Falling all around us</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

> For James.

The same semester I took an ancient poetry class  
That taught me the symbolism of cherry blossoms,  
We laughed under the blooming trees of DC  
And took pictures of each other,  
Still life portraits of so many fleeting things  
We were blissfully oblivious,  
Even in the soft flurries of blossoms   
Falling all around us

Three and a half years later,  
Two and a half years after,  
I tattooed the flowers from the drawing you mailed me the next week  
Two goofy stick figures holding hands under those trees,  
“Good luck on your test” scrawled on the back

What is this?  
I’m trying to laugh in the face of death  
By having you carved into my arm  
Delicate flowers of ephemeral beauty,  
Standing for life that blooms and withers quickly  
Dug into my skin with permanent ink  
Drawn imperfectly with another’s hands  
Because yours are gone  
But this confused symbol that I forced   
Will only last as long as me  
And I am no more permanent than you  
While I am nearly snarling because I hate crying,  
Death laughs at me with a soft chuckle

What are we?  
Are we the blossoms?  
Are we now only the smiling photographs, the hasty drawings  
That will fade over time?  
Or are we the symbol?  
Carrying meaning beyond things themselves,  
Transcending physical trappings

I picture future generations,  
New humans multiplied to replace you,  
Stitched together from those no closer to death than them,  
And named for ancestors known and unknown,  
Touching my tattoo:  
Faded ink in weathered skin,  
A blossom withering but not yet gone

I will tell the story of the person who drew those blossoms  
Someone who was there for only a blink of an eye  
But who still looked into me and touched, so deeply,  
Within and without life,  
That I was forced to see the depth of life  
And was left trembling in its vastness  
But ultimately, I was okay  
Birth was terrifying but I don’t remember it now  
Death is terrifying because I don’t know it yet  
Blossoms fall but grow anew the next year  
Blossoms fell but grew anew 

What will I see in their young faces when I tell our story?  
Faces no different from yours and mine   
When I was yours and you were mine  
I don’t know yet  
But I may remember it when I see it

A single blossom,   
Short-lived,  
Falling in a flurry of others,  
Is no less beautiful for it.


End file.
